


Kiss It Better

by junior_writes



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [13]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood and Injury, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Day 15: hurt/comfort, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, The Mage (Simon Snow) is an Asshole, Watford Eighth Year, he's not in the fic but he's the reason simon is hurt, i just felt like saying that, mentioned injury but it's not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junior_writes/pseuds/junior_writes
Summary: Day 15: Hurt/ComfortSimon comes back injured from a mission, so Baz heals him
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027180
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> tw: blood and injuries
> 
> prompt list from [@carryon-countdown](https://carryon-countdown.ttumblr.com/) on tumblr !

I’m woken up by a thumping sound coming from the hallway. I look at Snow's bed, and he’s still missing. He left yesterday during our morning classes for an emergency mission with the Mage and no one has seen him since. 

It’s odd, mainly because I saw the Mage this evening as he was entering Weeping Tower before dinner, yet there’s still no sign of Snow. 

I try to ignore the noise from the hall. It’s probably some underclassmen causing a riot. It’s odd, though, because our room is the only room at the top of the turret, and no one else ever comes up here besides me and Snow. 

The noise gets louder, so I sit up in my bed. I check my watch, it’s barely half past one in the morning. Before I can even process it, there’s a loud thud against the door, followed by a muffled groan. I get out of bed and go open the door, and I’m greeted by Snow leaning on the doorframe, covered in dirt and blood. I'm praying to anyone who is listening that the blood isn’t his. He looks weary and drowsy and like he’s at the end of his wits. 

“Simon, what the hell? Are you bleeding?” I ask and he wavers against the door.

“I… I couldn’t get the door open,” he says breathlessly before passing out. I quickly use my vampire reflexes to catch him before he hits the floor. I take him in my arms and carry him towards his bed. The iron scent of blood is making my nose burn and my gums itch, fighting the urge of my fangs pushing their way out. His breathing is labored, as if every breath he takes hurts him. 

I carefully lay him on his bed and head to the bathroom, where I grab a small flannel and wet it with warm water. I have half a mind to send a bird to Bunce and get her here, but she wouldn't be able to get into Mummer’s so it’s useless anyways. 

I take the flannel and start wiping off the dirt that’s caked on Simon’s face. I notice a small bruise forming under one of his eyes, and he has a deep scratch right along his jawline. He’s starting to wake up again, his eyes opening and peering up at me in confusion. 

“Baz? What are you doing?” he asks as he tries to sit up on his bed. 

“Shh, Snow,” I hush him. “You’re hurt, try not to move.” He seems confused by my presence, but leans into my hand as I wipe the flannel against his face. His face is still scrunched up in agony, and I can’t help but ask.

“What happened to you, Simon?” I whisper. He grimaces at the question, as if the memory itself pains him. 

“Ogres,” he breathes out. “The Mage had some unfinished business with a clan of them. Wanted me to take care of it.”

Of course, the Mage always sends Simon to fight his battles for him. He treats him like a weapon and it infuriates me. 

“Why couldn’t the Mage take care of it himself? It doesn’t seem like you should’ve gotten involved.” 

He looks at me with annoyance. “Christ, Baz, what do you care? I thought you wanted me dead anyways.”  _ I care a lot,  _ I think to myself.  _ I don’t want you dead. When the time comes, I’ll kiss you just as that blasted sword makes its way through me. You’ll win and I’ll die in shame, and it won’t matter because you’ll be as alive as you should always be.  _

“I want to be the one to kill you, Snow. I don’t want anyone to beat me to it,” I retort. I hate that I have to hide that I care about him, but it is my fault.  _ I’m  _ the one that put up these walls between us. Simon met me with open arms, and I took a prophecy and a stupid political war and knocked him down because of it. 

“Why are you helping me then? I already feel like I have one foot in the grave,” he says, followed by a cough. He clutches at his stomach and groans. I leave and get him a glass of water so he can drink. I notice a pool of blood staining his shirt. My hands start to tremble as I go to lift it up. 

“What did this?” I ask as I examine his wound. There’s a giant gash running from the side of his abdomen to his belly button. 

He looks down at his stomach. “Dagger, I think. Or maybe a sword. There were a lot of weapons flying at me.” He lays back down, his eyes drooping, as if he’s fighting sleep. I turn towards my nightstand and grab my wand. 

“I’m going to use some spells to heal this, okay?” Before I can spell him, he grabs my hand. 

“Baz,” he says, quietly. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

I offer him a small smile. “It’s okay. I know you’d do the same for me if our roles were reversed.”

“I like it when you’re like this,” He says as I wipe some of the blood off him with the flannel so I can get a better look of the wound. “I like it when we don’t fight. I wish we could be friends.”

My heart warms at the sentiment. “You’re delirious, Snow.” 

“You called me Simon earlier,” he says between a cough. 

“I absolutely did not.” I continue to wipe his wound and then spell him with a  **Get Well Soon** ,  **Early to bed, early to rise** , and  **On the mend** . 

“I like it when you call me Simon,” he whispers as he drifts off to sleep. 

I contemplate whether or not I should change him into some pajamas now that I’ve cleaned him off, but it feels like an invasion of privacy. Instead, I slip off his muddy trainers and change him out of his bloody shirt carefully, as to not wake him. I tuck him into his bed, covering him with only the oversheet, as I know blankets make him overheat. 

I take one good look at him before I go to bed. He looks peaceful, but I know it’s temporary and he’ll probably be woken with a nightmare in a few hours. I lightly brush a curl off his forehead and lean down. I’m tempting fate, but this is something I’ve always wanted to do, and I can’t help myself. 

“ **Kiss it better** ,” I whisper, and place a light kiss on his forehead. I don’t think it’ll work, as it’s a family spell, but I hold onto hope. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://junior-writes.tumblr.com/)


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